


Turn Out the Lights

by In_Best_Interest



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Angst, Edge - Freeform, F/M, Much dark, Seriously though I advise discretion here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 13:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Best_Interest/pseuds/In_Best_Interest
Summary: It's all gone wrong. The only thing left is to make peace with their lot.





	Turn Out the Lights

He can barely breathe. Likely because everything that he needs to draw breath has been shattered and ripped up inside of him. Diaphragm - important, probably trashed. Ribs - nothing but shards. The lungs themselves - perforated, filling up with blood.

But Mikkel can’t stop. He doesn’t have a choice. He drags himself across the freezing concrete, shaking, leaving a broken trail of blood behind him. It’s like dying, with the effort it takes to keep moving. The troll - or maybe this one is a giant, he can’t be sure - is regaining itself, uncoiling and twisting, partially on this level and partially on the one below. His movement is probably gaining its attention.

But Mikkel can’t stop. He needs-

“Sigrun,” he wheezes, with what little air he can manage. It makes him cough, and he spits up blood. In the medical world, that’s known universally as ‘being fucked up.’

Sigrun was flung hard against the wall by the troll, and now she lays in a pile. Whether she can fight, he has no idea. If she can, she needs to get up, and soon. If she can’t - well, he still has to get to her. Some foolish idea concerning protection flitting through his mind. Rubbish. He couldn’t stop anything in this state. Tuuri is past harm, but he can only hope that Emil and Lalli and Reynir will all escape, and not be-

He hears the troll shift. Running out of time. He pulls himself farther, trembling, and then gives out and lays on the floor. The effort is too much. Something warm and wet is running into his sideburns. He rolls over with a groan, trying to watch Sigrun.

She’s pushed herself partially up, but there’s a look in her eyes that doesn’t bode well: confused, hazy. There’s blood running from her hair. “Sigrun,” he repeats.

“Gotta get back to it - gotta kick its ass-” Sigrun makes an attempt to get to her feet, but then stumbles and falls to the floor again. He would hazard that’s a hefty brain injury right there.

It hurts, but he stretches out his arm towards her. She’s not much more than ten feet away - so close, but he couldn’t reach her on his own if he gave it everything he had. Not enough oxygen, too many wrecked body parts. The fear that she might not understand what he wants in her state twists his gut into knots.

But she does understand, and pushes herself forward. “Good,” Mikkel rasps. Colors are swirling in his vision, but he’s got time - he’s got time. Minutes, seconds, but it’s enough. “Please - please... just a bit more... Sigrun-”

She’s straining forward. The light is already partially out in her eyes due to whatever damage she’s done to her brain, but what’s left of that light is burning like a banked fire. Her teeth are bared, and she’s certainly dead - if not from the troll, then from her injuries - but the flame of her hair and her sharp profile is still beautiful, even covered in dirt and splattered with blood. Beautiful. With sudden fervor, she thrusts along the ground, fingertips dug into the concrete, pressing her face into the concrete. It must hurt.

“M’ sorry,” she manages. “M’ sorry… shoulda killed it quicker…”

Lies: “It’s okay... it’s okay. It’ll be okay... just come here.”

She hauls herself along. There are the starts of tear tracks cutting through the grime on her face, and he really knows she’s been injured then. Stretching as far as he can, he waits, fingers straining. Noise from below, the sound of something shifting.

“Th’ hell are you still so calm?” she asks. So close. Less than a foot.

“You need it,” he answers.

One last titanic effort from Sigrun, and their fingertips touch, just barely link together. Mikkel shuts his eyes, feels the pressure of her through their gloves.

“Y’ shoulda gotten outta the way,” she slurs to him. The shifting noise grows louder, and something shakes

The colors in his vision are more vivid, and he struggles to find his tongue. At least it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. It’s dulled to a far-off ache. Probably means that he’s halfway dead, but that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is getting a final few words out. Just for Sigrun, and no one else.

“I,” he gasps, “am so glad it was you.”

The light in her eyes flares up for a brief second. Beautiful, he thinks.

Then the entire world splits apart, and her hand is ripped away.

The troll bursts through the floor, breaking the concrete and sending him spinning backwards. It doesn’t matter, really. He was dead any way it played out. At least this way, when he's brained against the wall, he can still feel her fingers on his.

**Author's Note:**

> I felt miserable today, so now you all get to feel miserable too.


End file.
